


When Life Gives You Lemons

by ClementineStarling



Category: Deadpool (2016)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Torture, Voyeurism, mouth soaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineStarling/pseuds/ClementineStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A few detergent jokes too many for me not to get ideas,” Ajax says conversationally. </p><p>(Angel POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Life Gives You Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> [viceindustrious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious) wanted "Some particularly Victorian style discipline" like mouth soaping.  
>  Not for this fandom perhaps, but well, see fic-title. (Also I'm still waiting for your take on dear Francis. I mean, _you_ dragged me into this, it would be entirely unfair to just leave me here! :*)
> 
> Also waving like crazy @[dance_across](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_across)! *blows kisses*
> 
> Particularly inspired by [this tumblr post by oce-21](http://oce-21.tumblr.com/post/140173964357/whats-my-name-sry-for-quality).
> 
> Warning for all potential readers who might be uncomfortable with non-con (this fic contains rape, not a ravishment fantasy, not very graphic though) from a perpetrator POV (Angel) and some making out between Ajax and Angel with D/s-overtones. (=beware het!)

To say she loves her job would be quite a stretch, but she's awfully good at it, that's for sure. They keep tabs on success rates and hers are outstanding. Not only because she's on Ajax's team. Maybe even despite that. She's efficient, pragmatic, focussed on her goals, while her boss, well, if you asked her, she'd say _he_ does love the job. A bit too much perhaps. Sometimes his enthusiasm makes him lose sight of the bigger picture. Like now with Wilson. He is obsessed with him; so obsessed he oversees every last one of his treatments himself. Which takes up a lot of time, he should probably spend on other tasks, but his workshop, his rules.

Angel leans back against the metal wall of the container they use as a torture chamber for today's session, and crosses her arms. She is not entirely sure what's the point of the exercise, but then it's also not her place to question a superior's decision. A mutation can be triggered by all kinds of distress and maybe that's just a new method. Even though she suspects it's just Ajax having a bit of fun.

He's tied up Wilson into a neat little bundle at his feet. Pretty accomplished and also pretty much effort, given the fact they have all kinds of medical equipment for restraining a patient that can be put on or taken off in no time at all. Going through the trouble to cord him up with parcel string is rather telling; even though she has to admit it's quite pretty to see how it's cutting into Wilson's skin, tightening as he struggles against it. 

He is naked. Nothing new, but it's always a pleasant sight. For a dying man he's pretty ripped; if she didn't know she wouldn't have guessed, he wasn't completely healthy. He looks like a man in his prime. Fit. Attractive. And then those brown puppy dog eyes. No wonder Ajax is so taken with him. In theory he'd make the perfect slave-- but it's a theory that doesn't stand up to reality. He's rebellious, impertinent and he's got a mouth on him that drives Ajax up the walls. Most of the time they keep him gagged now, which is a shame, because Ajax likes to hear the whimpers and moans and screams and above all the pleading, and Angel likes to watch him, when he's getting all hot and bothered by the pain he inflicts on their patients. It's actually one of the perks of the job.

Angel is not so much turned on by the suffering, she's more in it for the power-rush, that intoxicating thrill when you realise you're a damn god to your guinea pigs, and they fucking pray to you to make it stop – whatever it is that you're doing. And there's nothing better than seeing Ajax at play, he comes up with ever new ideas how to torment their subjects. Not necessarily by causing physical pain, sometimes he prefers to mess with their minds. Promises them a way out, if only they do this or that, and good lab rats that they are, they always, always try. It's no use of course, it only leads to more anguish, and Ajax _revels_ in it. 

She can almost smell the satisfaction on him, taste the smugness of his smile, the sense of triumph in the manner his tongue sweeps over his lips. There is a sort of tension in his body, that betrays superhuman strength; not like hers, more of a resilience, and a perfect manner of control. His hands are always so steady when he holds someone down, someone who's trembling with exhaustion, freezing or hurting or simply falling apart. They are so fragile, these ordinary mortals, so easily broken; she never knows if she feels pity for them or disgust, but Ajax, oh he is divine.

Angel has spent some time pondering about the nature of her attraction to him, whether she desires him as a man, but somehow that's not it. She can't imagine him abasing himself with such silly acts as actual _sex_ , not when he can have the pure, refined pleasure of power. As for herself, she's happy with watching him.

Judging from the grin he wears, he's come up with another glorious idea how to torture his favourite toy, and Angel's scored a seat in the first row. All she's got to do now is sit back and enjoy the show.

The muscles in Ajax's arms flex as he yanks Wilson's head upwards, his hair just long enough now to allow for a good grasp, and Wilson yelps against the neat little gag spreading his foul mouth open. His eyes are wide with fear, probably he's mulling over options in his head, trying to guess what it's in store for him this time. And Ajax enjoys it. He runs his fingers over Wilson's back, marvelling at the faint shiver he invokes, before he leans down, and whispers something in his ear. Something Angel cannot quite catch, but Wilson starts struggling again in his bonds and Ajax looks like a cat that got the cream.

He puts his hand in the pocket of his lab-coat and produces a green plastic bottle. The label reads _Ajax_ in red, capitalised letters, and Angel begins to suspect--

“A few detergent jokes too many for me not to get ideas,” Ajax says conversationally. “You know, I do wonder why no one bothered to do this before, as foul-mouthed as you are...” 

Wilson tries to say something, most likely another smart-ass comeback, like he's been treated like this all the time and gets off on it. There is something in his eyes though that belies such cockiness. Also all he accomplishes is a wet sputter and incoherent sounds. 

“Now lets wash this filthy little mouth of yours, shall we?”

Ajax tips the bottle and lets the slick green fluid dribble into Wilson's mouth. 

Wilson attempts to turn away his head, then, as Ajax holds him in an iron grip (he may not be as strong as Angel, but strong enough), attempts to spit it out, but all he manages is to make the detergent bubble and foam, his tongue wiggling uselessly. A sickening smell of lime spreads quickly through the room, and soon Wilson is retching, trying to get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. He also tries to kick and lash out, but the struggling makes the parcel twine only draw tighter. 

“See, that's better,” Ajax says when Wilson finally ceases fighting, when he's gone limp and doesn't move anymore, apart from the dry heaves shaking his body; he's drooling, long greenish threads of saliva hanging from his lips. There is foam around his mouth. 

Like a rabid dog, Angel thinks. So much for puppy eyes.

“Pass me the water,” Ajax demands and then actually takes it upon himself to rinse Wilson's mouth with a bottle of Evian. Angel almost wonders why, but truth be told, she has seen the answer already in Wilson's fear-dark eyes, before Ajax begins to unbutton his trousers. She swallows, this is new.

“Now it's time to make sure, you won't confuse me with detergent in the future. We do taste quite differently, you know,” Ajax says, one of his hands buried in Wilson's hair, the other... 

Angel can feel the self-righteous smile melt off her face. “Boss?”  
There is an almost girlish squeak to her voice, that's also new. She can't even say why this seems so wrong, as opposed to all the other things they already did to Wilson and countless others, surely it's not that much worse, but still. 

His voice is composed as ever when he says her name, calming, gentle, without stopping what he's doing though. She can feel his gaze on her, inquisitive, but she can't look him in the eye, not when she is mesmerised by his fingers as they curl around himself, those strong, steady, perfectly manicured fingers... she thinks she's stopped breathing, it's surreal how they stroke along the length of him, that tender stiff flesh she would have thought above such base desire. Hell, she thought _herself_ above wanting this, but now she can't tear her eyes away. 

This is not right, she wants to say, but her tongue fails her. The words simply won't come. 

Instead she watches how the fingers of Ajax's other hand twist in Wilson's hair, how Wilson shuts his eyes to seek refuge in the darkness behind his lids, how Ajax's cock fits perfectly through the open mouth gag. Something inside her belly squirms at the sight. Her heart beats so loud, it fills her ears like thunder.

“Angel,” Ajax says again, “come here”, and she steps closer as if in trance. He smiles, and he's always so beautiful when he does that, almost cute with the sharp cheekbones plunging into those adorable dimples, and then the lush, sensual lips. Angel's mouth is dry as a fucking desert. 

“I know you want this,” he says, so softly, touching her face with the same hand he just had wrapped around his cock, she can still smell it on him. It's certainly nothing like dish detergent. This would be the moment to freak out, she thinks as Ajax lifts her chin to tilt her head upwards. She can't believe this is happening. It's her fucking boss, buried balls-deep in the mouth of a fucking patient, and he is still so much in control, so very powerful, while she is literally trembling with some weird emotion she can't even place, and he is about to kiss her, he's so close, his lips nearly touch hers.

“Ajax,” she whispers, a plea, unmistakably, but for what? 

“I've seen you staring, Angel.” His breath is hot, even as she swallows it down, it burns inside her like fever. His mouth brushes against hers, teasingly. “How you watched me...” His hips rock a bit forwards, and Wilson to their feet gives a grunt, a desperate animal sound that crawls in shivers down Angel's spine. Ajax hand is on her throat now, a possessive sprawl, and she leans into it, just enough for the pressure to register as a hint of nausea. She has no idea how she could have thought _this_ would diminish him in any way, make him any less powerful. It does not, on the contrary, she is drunk on his power.

She opens her mouth against his, offering, and he takes--

Whatever she'd expected it wasn't such a sweet kiss, lazy, tender, and _very_ restrained. So restrained it makes her growl with frustration, a sound that in turn elicits a laugh. “Show me how you like it then, Angel,” he says, a challenge she can't ignore, her hands flying up to grasp his face, and then she kisses him properly, with all the passion she can muster, and Ajax lets her. Allows her to bite at his lips and jab her tongue into his mouth, almost angrily, until only the hand against her throat reminds her who's in charge. 

When she eventually breaks away, panting, his lovely mouth is red and swollen, almost bruised, but Ajax doesn't seem to mind. “Now, Angel, would you hold him for me?” he says, gesturing at Wilson who's still on his knees before him, lips spread wide around Ajax's cock, looking up at them with an unreadable expression. They'll never be able to ungag him, she thinks. He'd never stop babbling about this. But maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps locking all the bad jokes inside him, letting them simmer in his head without any sort of outlet will finally do the trick. She, at least, won't miss his big mouth.

And Ajax, well, he can make use of it anyway.


End file.
